SEVEN USELESS DEFINITIONS OF HOLINESS

Thoughts on What Holiness Is—and Isn’t

An old story tells of blind men feeling an elephant. One grabs the leg: “Elephants are like trees.” Another feels the ear: “No, elephants are like fans.” A third clutches the tail: “You’re both wrong—elephants are like stiff rope.”

Holiness gets the same treatment. Everyone has a piece of the puzzle and swears it’s the whole picture. But God’s holiness is far bigger, stranger, and more beautiful than any of us can imagine. And most of what passes for a definition is just a fragment—partly true, partly misleading.

Why does it matter? Because we’re called to be holy as He is holy.
If we don’t even know what holiness is, we can spend our life chasing shadows.

Each of these definitions touches truth, but just a fragment. They describe holiness by its shadows, not its source. So before we talk about what holiness is, let’s clear away what it isn’t—especially the versions we’ve baptized and built our lives around.

"Holiness is sin avoidance"

Defining holiness as “not sinning” makes God sound like a cosmic hall monitor.
It’s like defining light as “not dark”—technically true, spiritually empty.

We’ve all been there—counting sins like calories, convinced holiness means staying spiritually thin. You end up policing yourself instead of loving God, shrinking your life down to what you must not do instead of what you were made for.

God was holy before sin entered the picture.

His holiness isn’t fear of defilement; it’s a radiance of perfect life that fills instead of forbids.

"Holiness is separation from the world"

If holiness means hiding from sinners, Jesus failed miserably.
He didn’t avoid the world—He healed it from the inside.

Withdrawal masquerading as holiness builds bunkers and calls them temples. We’ve all seen it—the prayer group that never meets the people they pray for, the family table that never stretches for a neighbor, the church known for how they picket instead of Whom they preach. We mistake comfort for conviction and call it purity.

True holiness doesn’t lock the gate; it lights the porch.

"Holiness is separation to God"

“Set apart to God” sounds right—until you realize it paints a lonely picture. And it still doesn't make sense when applied to God. We talk about being “set apart,” but sometimes that is just code that means set aside—too sacred to serve, too spiritual to care.

God’s holiness isn’t self-isolation; it’s relational overflow.
The Holy One isn’t withdrawn from creation but present to it in perfect wholeness.

Real holiness is union so deep His life spills through us into everything we touch.

"Holiness is moral perfection"

If holiness means flawless behavior, we’re sunk before breakfast. Even then, perfection as we like to define it is often a far cry from how the scriptures use it. Scripture’s “Be perfect” doesn’t mean “never mess up”; it means “be complete” (teleios) and it's a perfection that is actually applied to real humans throughout the bible.

We tend to keep moral scorecards like Pharisees with Fitbits—always tracking, never resting. Performance replaces peace, and we end up exhausted, not transformed.

True holiness isn’t flawlessness; it’s wholeness restored—a life integrated, not inspected.

"Holiness is righteousness"

Righteousness is the straightness of the road; holiness is the brilliance of the destination.
We settle for driving the speed limit and call it devotion, forgetting where the road is supposed to lead.

God’s justice shows what is right; His holiness shows why it is beautiful.
Holiness isn’t about staying in the lines; it’s about being lit by the destination’s glory.

"Holiness is godliness"

Saying holiness means “godliness” is like calling water wet—true but useless.
We say “godly” when we mean polite, predictable, or properly dressed for church.

God isn’t “godly”; He’s whole.

And holiness begins when His life, not our manners, defines us.

"Holiness means worthy of devotion"

Yes, God is worthy of devotion—but holiness isn’t a competition for attention.
Angels are holy, but we don’t worship them; their wholeness points us back to His.

We confuse charisma for holiness and platform for purity, bowing to applause more easily than to awe.
Holiness evokes devotion because it is beauty overflowing, not authority demanding.
It draws our hearts upward, not by force, but by wonder.

Holiness is like the elephant—far bigger than the little piece you’re holding.

These definitions skim the surface but miss the glory. You can spend your life reciting them and never glimpse the wonder of a truly holy God.

The real thing isn’t about escaping sin but embodying life.

Holiness isn’t subtraction—it’s overflow.

And that overflow was never meant to stay in heaven. When God says, “Be holy as I am holy,” He isn’t mocking our weakness—He’s revealing our design. Whatever holiness is, it must fit human skin, because even the frail and flawed have been called holy men and women of God.

Holiness must be something we can actually share in, or God would never command it. To make it just a positional label while living untransformed only hollows the word—it turns divine power into polite fiction, a way to sound redeemed while staying unchanged. Saints and prophets weren’t exceptions; they were previews of what His wholeness looks like in human form.

Let’s pull the curtain back on what holiness really is—the kind that overflows, heals, and makes the world whole again.

So... What Is Holiness? →